


The Universe to Bend

by carlynroth



Series: Canon-Compliant Fics [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Canon Compliant, Dominion War, Episode: s05e06 Timeless, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Linear Narrative, Other, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-27 18:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carlynroth/pseuds/carlynroth
Summary: For the first year after a tragic slipstream flight cost all but two of Voyager’s crew their lives, Chakotay is haunted by the memory of Kathryn Janeway and the last night they spent together. When his search for healing leads him to Deep Space Nine, he meets a counselor who helps him find what he needs to move forward.





	1. Come Away in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for J/C Cutthroat Fanfiction Contest, gamma team. Our prompt was to pick one song from a list of several, and I chose 'Come Away With Me' by Norah Jones.
> 
> My thanks to MiaCooper for her extremely helpful beta work!

**February 2375**   
_USS Voyager_

“What about you, Chakotay? What do you think about my decision?”

Kathryn licks her lips and leans forward as she asks the question, bracing her elbows on the table and fidgeting with her hands. She studies him carefully, reading every level of his response.

She knows he disagrees. He didn’t exactly hide his displeasure from her, but he knows better by now than to argue. And he’ll be damned if their last night on Voyager becomes another brick in the wall she has built between them.

But something is different this time. He can sense a strange energy rolling off of her like radiation from a star. She has made her decision; that much is certain. Yet she genuinely wants to gauge his reaction. _Why?_

Chakotay picks up the PADD that Kathryn had been reviewing when he walked in. “I've analyzed Harry's flight plan. The theory is sound, but there are just too many variables. If something goes wrong in that slipstream—”

“It could be our only chance to use the quantum drive.”

_Ah, so she’s using me to reassure herself that the argument she’s been having within her own mind is the right one._

Chakotay favors her with a nod. “True. But if you showed this data to any Starfleet engineer, they'd think we were out of our minds.” He puts down the PADD and levels with her. “We can find another way home. We've waited this long—"

“Long enough,” she murmurs insistently. “We've waited long enough.”

She stares at him, and there’s a subtle shift in her eyes. When she speaks again, the change in her voice is less-than-subtle. She’s no longer speaking as his captain, but on a level that is much more personal. “I know it's a risk, probably our biggest one yet, but I'm willing to take it. Are you with me?”

Chakotay doesn’t hesitate in his answer. “Always.”

She drops her head to hide the smile this promise brings to her face. He wishes that she wouldn’t; he loves that smile. When she looks up again, he could swear her cheeks are ever so slightly flushed, but she stands and quickly turns away to make for the replicator.

“Speaking of risks,” she says as she rounds the table and steps towards him instead. The color in her face has returned to normal. She sets her hand on his shoulder and leans in. “Are you ready to try some home cooking?”

He nearly stops breathing at her touch. “I’ll alert sickbay.”

She smiles fully now, and her hand moves from his shoulder to cup his cheek. She must know. Surely, she must know what she is doing to him.

His heart pounds in his ears as she lets her hand slip away, the scent of vanilla and spiced tea lingering in her wake.

* * *

**January 2376**   
_Deep Space Nine_

Chakotay has barely stepped foot on Deep Space Nine when he is summoned to the office of the station commander herself.

Colonel Kira Nerys is a petite woman, but Chakotay knows better than to let that fool him. Her composure is commanding and confident, and he can tell immediately that she isn’t the type to brook any arguments with her decisions. She is a blunt force object, keeping her eyes on the goal and demolishing anything that gets in her way. Chakotay stifles a smile at the thought of her and Kathryn going head-to-head.

Passion bleeds through everything that Kira says and does. Clearly she is not one for small talk, yet she has learned to be diplomatic. She is pleasant, but Chakotay cannot help noticing that she uses their early conversation both to break the ice and to size him up.

He has barely begun to suspect her intentions when she decides to give him quarters on the station.

“I appreciate the offer, Colonel,” Chakotay tells her, “but I haven’t decided yet if I want to stay in the area. I wouldn’t want you to go through the trouble only for me to leave in a week.”

“Well, in that case, you should definitely take quarters here. Temporary housing is very difficult to find this close to the front. Everyone is still trying to rebuild from the war.”

“Even on Bajor?”

“We’re housing a lot of refugees on the planet right now,” she explains. “Your best bet is to stay here, even if it’s just for the week. We have everything you need, and you won’t have to worry about income. If you do get bored, there are plenty of shops on the Promenade. Quark is always looking for good bartenders to cheat out of wages, but I have no doubt you can hold your own against him. Or, if you’re willing and your counselor approves of it, I could definitely use someone with your credentials and experience here in Ops. I lost a lot of good people after the war ended, and I still need a first officer.”

“I’m sorry, Colonel, but I really don’t know if—”

She waves a hand dismissively at him. “I don’t expect anything right now, Commander. I’m just saying you have options here. But first things first; you need a place to sleep. Will you accept quarters on the station?”

Chakotay sighs with resignation. Kira does not strike him as the type to take ‘no’ for an answer. He wants to be frustrated with her insistence, but it reminds him so much of Kathryn that he simply can’t turn her down. “That would be perfect, Colonel. Thank you.”

“Good,” she says. Then she offers him her hand, and finally cracks her command-hardened visage with a shockingly radiant smile. “Welcome to Deep Space Nine.” ****

* * *

**February 2375**   
_USS Voyager_

For a while, the command team talks and eats as if this dinner is no different than any of the other dinners they share so often. Chakotay is usually very good at keeping his feelings for Kathryn buried, remaining her first officer and friend. It is what she needs from him, and he did promise her that he would do anything to lighten the weight of her command.

Tonight, he tries; he truly, honestly tries to keep it friendly.

She asks him what he wants to do when they return to Earth, and he admits that he hasn’t thought about it.

“Not at all?” she asks with a tone of surprise.

He smiles. “Well, there is one idea that I’ve put a lot of thought into…”

She leans in, her eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Tell me.”

And he tells her about a place called Taos. He tells her about going there as a child, about the incredible landscapes, about the nearby Pueblo village, and about the history of the area. He also tells her about the cabin he wants to build for himself in the middle of a large and secluded lot where he can hear nothing but the sounds of nature all around him.

She hangs on his every word.

He does not tell her that he has always imagined her sharing that little cabin in Taos with him.

Still, he cannot help but wonder why he bothers with the charade. He ruminates quietly on this throughout the evening, especially as he helps Kathryn clear the table. They are on the precipice of achieving their most distant goal—or, they are all about to die. Either way…

Chakotay turns from the replicator to find Kathryn staring at him longingly. Her face warms with that smile—the half-sultry, half-mischievous one she seems to reserve just for him. She holds out her hand. “Dance with me,” she asks.

Of course, he complies.

At first, the moment is light and playful, just the way they usually are together. Romantic and sexual attractions aside, she truly is his best friend. Time spent in her company does not wear on him like most social engagements do; Kathryn is like a piece of his soul. Their friendship comes so easily.

But tonight, the playfulness is undercut by something far more deep and terrifying—and far more desperate.

Chakotay wants to kiss her. He wants it so badly that he can feel his body trembling with anticipation, and he wonders if it’s as obvious to her as it feels to him. She keeps trying to press in closer, but he worries how she might react if she were to notice the growing evidence of his physical attraction to her.

Then she’s lifting up on her toes and angling her face towards his. The kiss is tender at first, but quickly turns passionate as the crumbling levee around his heart finally breaks.


	2. I Will Write You a Song

**January 2376**  
_Deep Space Nine_

"Taos?" the counselor asks.

"New Mexico," Chakotay explains. "My aunt who lives on Earth took my sister and me there for vacation once, and I never forgot it."

"I've never been to the American Southwest," she admits.

"Not even in one of your previous hosts?"

She shakes her head, then wistfully asks, "What's it like there?"

Chakotay cracks a rare smile at the young counselor's question, and he wonders if he senses a hint of wanderlust hidden behind it. If so, he might actually like this one. "Small town in the Sangre de Cristo mountains, near the Rio Grande. It has some of the most incredible scenery on the planet. When the sun is low in the sky, it turns the mountains red."

The counselor smiles, her bright blue eyes focused on something unseeable to anyone outside of her own mind. "That sounds amazing."

 _So it is wanderlust_ , he thinks approvingly. "Many artists and writers have been inspired by its landscapes, as well as by its people. Actually, a lot of the residents are descendants of the Pueblo villagers who lived in the area for more than a thousand years before the Third World War."

"How fascinating! I'll make sure to visit next time I'm on Earth."

"You should," he agrees.

Yes, he does like this counselor. He is actually beginning to relax with her. Few things are more exciting than finding someone who is interested in the sort of cultures that flourish off the beaten paths of tourists.

 _Although_ , he reminds himself, _she is a joined Trill—and a Dax at that. She could put my knowledge and experience to shame several lifetimes over._

Dax studies him carefully. "What are you thinking about?"

He lets out a nearly-imperceptible chuckle. "I was thinking that you may be the first counselor I've seen that I get along with."

She smiles, and it brightens her eyes even more. "I'm glad you think that, Chakotay."

He is grateful that she remembers not to call him by his rank. He hates it when people address him by rank. It only reminds him of what he lost, and he needs no reminders of that.

Dax keeps the rest of the conversation easy and light, never pressing him and only talking about things he wants to talk about. When the time is up, he realizes that he is slightly disappointed.

"I hope you do decide to stay here," she offers as she stands and shakes his hand.

He nods. "I think I will, at least for a little while. I could use some distance from Command, and I always did regret how little time I had to actually see Bajor while I was with the Maquis."

She flashes him a genuinely pleased smile. "Good. Does that mean I'll be seeing you again?"

He nods. "I'd like that."

For the first time Chakotay can recall, he willingly makes a second appointment with Lieutenant Dax's assistant before he leaves.

* * *

 **February 2375**  
_USS Voyager_

“Come away with me,” he whispers in her ear as they dance across the floor of her quarters, “and I’ll never stop loving you.”

He feels her smile against his skin. “To Taos?” she asks.

“To bed,” he replies. “Tonight.”

Their movement stops, and she pulls back to look him in the eyes. She studies his face closely.

He has surprised her, he realizes, with his forwardness. Normally, he defers to her timing in all things. He hadn’t planned on their evening going this way, but when she kissed him, he was lost.

“Are you—” her voice hitches, and she swallows. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He smiles teasingly. “Are you asking me? Or, are you asking yourself?”

She huffs a laugh and drops her head to hide her embarrassment.

“Kathryn.” His hand slides under her chin and nudges it gently upward, encouraging her to look at him. When she does, his breath catches at the thin, sparkling rings of blue that surround her wide black pupils. “Just tonight,” he says. “Tomorrow, we make the flight as planned. And then, we can talk about Taos.”

“You don’t—” she licks her lips “—think we should wait?”

“I don’t want to.”

The look she gives him lets him know she's onto his true motive. There is a very real possibility of catastrophe, and this might be his last chance to show her what he's been holding back from her for so long.

She doesn't call him out. Secretly, she has the same fear, though she would never admit it to anyone—not even to him. He knows her well enough to know that, and he respects her enough to pretend he knows nothing.

Her countenance shifts as she comes to a decision. Her hands, which had been resting on his chest, snake upward to curl around his neck. “Taos,” she confirms just before she lifts her lips to his.

* * *

 **January 2376**  
_Deep Space Nine_

‘So you’re staying?’

The ghost of Kathryn Janeway stands over him—arms crossed beneath her chest and one hip resting against the side of his desk—as he plans a visit to Bajor on the computer console in his quarters. It’s a pose she likes to use when she wants to attract his gaze, because it makes her curves all the more noticeable.

He doesn’t oblige her ploy for attention, but he still answers her question. “For now.”

In his periphery, he watches her arms drop to her sides as she begins to saunter around the room, just the way she used to when he first moved into his apartment on Earth. On a pause, she lets out an audible sigh. ‘I don’t know that I could ever get used to living with Cardassian architecture. It doesn’t bother you?’

He shrugs, still keeping his eyes on the screen. “I’ll manage.”

She continues meandering silently through his quarters—which doesn’t take her long, given their small size—until she comes to a stop in front of the wall his desk faces. On it hangs a painting he had originally made years before and presented to the real Kathryn Janeway as a gift.

She loved it from the moment she first laid eyes on it.

It isn’t the original, of course; that one never left the wall in her quarters where he had helped her hang it the night he gave it to her, and it is likely vaporized in some god-forsaken swath of space between here and the Delta Quadrant. This painting is a recreation that he made from memory to occupy the travel time between Earth and Deep Space Nine.

‘You finally put up some wall art,’ she notes, her tone alight with pleasure. When Chakotay looks up at her, she is regarding him with a hopeful smile. ‘It’s beautiful, Chakotay. It looks just like—’

“Us,” he finishes for her.

She nods, and turns back to the painting—a starry night sky overlooking a lake, a bright slash of moonlight etched into the rippling water below, and a tiny sailboat carrying two indistinct figures silhouetted against the spotlight. It’s based on a holographic recreation of Lake George, where they had gone sailing together just a day after nearly losing her.

That night, he almost gave into the impulse to throw caution to the simulated wind and kiss her.

It wasn’t the first time her life had been endangered—not even close to it. It was, however, the first time that he was forced to confront the possibility of living out the rest of his days in regret. What if they missed out on something significant by burying the attraction that blossomed between them? Would their sacrifice be worth it in the end? What if she died not knowing the depth of his feelings towards her? Could he ever forgive himself for passing over every chance the universe gave him to touch the woman underneath the captain’s mask?

‘Every chance but one,’ Kathryn reminds him, bringing his mind back to the present. Slowly, she makes her way to his desk and perches herself on the edge of it. Her eyes convey ineffable depths of love as they hold his gaze. ‘We’ll always have one.’


	3. Come Away on a Bus

**February 2376**  
_Deep Space Nine_

In their third counseling session, Chakotay brings up the most painful subject he knows. He doesn't know why he chooses this moment to talk about it; perhaps because he dreamt of Kathryn again last night, or perhaps because Ezri Dax is the first counselor he's ever felt comfortable talking to.

It doesn't matter. It only matters that he finally lets this monster out. He tells Ezri about the memory that has been burned into his brain ever since the day he lost Kathryn—the memory of their final night together.

Kathryn's final night alive.

The memory haunts him as relentlessly as the memory of standing in the smoking ruins of his tribal lands. He would give anything to go back and change it—to save them all, and redeem himself, no matter how it angered her.

The crew deserved so much better from him. Instead, they are gone, and he is left to carry the burden of their memory.

Now, Kathryn is ever before his eyes, as apparent and indelible as the tattoo on his face. He remembers every syllable she said on that last night, every flicker of her eyelids, and every inch of her skin. She refuses to let him go.

Or is he the one refusing to let her go?

"Maybe if you start at the beginning, it will come easier," Ezri suggests gently.

He draws in a deep breath.

* * *

**February 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

The early days are still a blur for Chakotay. Part of that is the shock of what happened; he and Harry made it all the way back to Earth by riding the rapids of a slipstream corridor, but Voyager was lost mid-flight.

Part of it is overstimulation. Almost immediately upon their arrival, Starfleet sweeps in and pulls their feet out from under them. The debriefings, the investigations, the press, the ceremonies, the memorial services. He and Harry are shuffled from one thing to the next, and there never seems to be time to process any of it before they are led on to the next thing.

It is numbing.

Somewhere along the way, it is decided that he and Harry both need to be placed on psychological leave until such a time as they are deemed fit to return to duty. After the initial flurry of activity dies down, Chakotay cycles through so many counselors that he can't keep track.

He hates them all.

But perhaps the biggest reason for the blurred recollection is his own doing. When the debriefings and ceremonies are finished, and their miraculous return fades into the background behind more pressing matters of war, the shell of a person that used to be Harry Kim returns home with his parents to South Carolina.

Chakotay, meanwhile, settles into a small apartment just off-base in San Francisco. He had emerged from the slipstream with nothing of his own but the uniform on his back, so the apartment remains bare.

And he doesn't have the energy to care, because all he can think about is her.

'How ironic,' she—the ghost of Kathryn Janeway—says to him while she saunters around the tiny grey space as if it were an art gallery. 'When we were on New Earth, you despised the drab aesthetic that Starfleet used for everything, and you were constantly coming up with ways to add color or make it feel more... homey. But now look at you. You should get some plants, some drapes. Make yourself a painting, and some wood sculptures. Something to brighten this place up, Chakotay. It looks nothing like you.'

"No," he answers, his tone utterly forlorn. "It doesn't, does it?"

* * *

**May 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

As the weeks creep on, Chakotay begins spending more and more time away from the apartment. Instead, he takes a page out of Tom Paris' book and spends his time in bars. The noisier, the better; anything to drown out the sound of Kathryn's voice, and that damn memory.

When he does finally get home, he is always intoxicated and rarely alone. New company graces his bed each night, and most are gone by the time he wakes up. He never remembers their names.

At least, not until her.

The first time he lays eyes on her, he thinks he is seeing Kathryn's ghost. With her hair bobbed just above her shoulders and colored auburn-brown, he could have sworn it was his former captain sitting alone at the bar shooting whiskey. Yet when he stumbles up behind her and grasps her shoulder, choking out her name in shock, it is dark eyes— _they should have been blue_ —that turn to meet his.

She gives a coy smile as her gaze slides from his face to his hips and back up again. "I can be a Kathryn," she says in a voice like molten caramel. "For you, sweetheart, I'll be whoever you need me to be."

Less than ten minutes later, he is pressing her against a dull-grey wall in his Starfleet-issued apartment. With no wall art, he doesn't have to worry about knocking a painting to the floor in the middle of a hot, drunken fuck. She kicks off her shoes and slides her panties to the floor, and he curls his hands around her ass to hold her secure while she coils her legs around his hips.

He practically shouts Kathryn's name as he buries himself in her.

* * *

**February 2375**  
_USS Voyager_

"Come," she whispers, leading him by the hand towards her bedroom.

Her lips are swollen from his kisses, so they look even more enticing than usual when she gives him that irresistible crooked smile that never fails to make him melt inside.

Every touch, every kiss, and every divestment of clothing is savored. Slow. Intentional. Worshipful. Loving.

For Chakotay and Kathryn, making love had begun long before a single article of clothing was ever removed. Even the slightest brush of the fingertips or touch of the lips conveys a level of intimacy he had never dreamed could be possible. Every time he catches Kathryn's eye, no matter where he is, he feels more naked than he ever has with past lovers.

For so long, he has held himself back from her. Twice before, they have come close—once on New Earth, and once on the holodeck while sailing Lake George. Both times, he waited at the threshold of her parameters, hoping she might step through. Both times, he saw in her eyes that she wanted to.

Both times, she turned back to duty and left Chakotay alone with only the vivid images that he held to in his dreams.

Now that he can finally touch her, he feels like he has been laid bare all the way down to his soul. Finally, those images have a chance at becoming real. He is not the least bit ashamed to be so revealed; no, he is fulfilled.

Because she is his missing piece.

* * *

**May 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

His head is pounding mercilessly as he cracks his eyes open, admitting just enough daylight to take in the sight of his bedroom. Out of habit, he glances over at the space on the bed beside him and finds it empty.

No surprise.

It's just as well. He particularly hates himself for this one. How many times did he call her 'Kathryn'? She should have slapped him across the face and left him to his lonely misery for such behavior.

He deserves it.

Just as he's pulling on a pair of sweatpants, he hears a noise come from another room. For a moment, his mind jumps to danger. Shaking his head, he dismisses this reflex out of hand. Either his guest hasn't left after all, or his sister has decided to show up out of the blue to fuss over him some more.

When he emerges from the bedroom, he finds that Kathryn's look-alike has made herself right at home in his kitchen. Having appropriated his grey t-shirt from the night before, she sits casually at the small table beside a large, east-facing window. The morning sunlight streaming into the room makes her hair look even more red.

She smiles at him as he ambles to the seat across from her. "Good morning," she says, watching him settle.

He blinks, trying to clear his head. With the alcohol out of his system, he realizes that the woman's face bears only a passing resemblance to Kathryn's. "Why are you here?"

Instead of responding, she picks up a hypospray that he hadn't noticed was sitting on the table between them. "Headache?"

He nods and turns his head to the side so she can administer the medication for him. Within seconds, his headache fades and his mind becomes clear.

"Coffee?"

"Please," he replies, and she pours him a cup.

"I hope you like your eggs scrambled," she says as she slides the cup towards him. "You should eat something."

"Why are you doing this?"

The look she gives him is one of pained understanding. "Because you need it. I know what you're going through."

Chakotay scrunches his brow. "Are you saying you only slept with me because you know who I am?"

"I slept with you because you were the most attractive man at the bar and I wanted a good fuck."

He sighs. "Listen, about that. I'm sorry for how I treated you last night, calling you Kathryn when—"

She waves a dismissive hand. "Really, Chakotay, you have nothing to apologize for. Believe me when I say that I know what you're going through. I lost my husband a while back in the war. I'm going through the same self-destructive cycle you are, it's just that I'm a couple of steps ahead of you."

He sets down the cup with a heavy thunk. "I'm sorry. That must be difficult."

"Stop apologizing. Eat."

"Can I at least know your real name?"

She smiles. "Lieutenant Tessa Omond. Although, given that I've been placed on an extended leave of absence, you should probably just call me Tessa. Or Kathryn, if you'd prefer."

There's a twinkle in her eye that lets him know she's teasing, and his lips twitch slightly upward in response. "It's nice to meet you, Tessa. And thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so they cast a young actress to play Tessa Omond on the show. But Tessa’s age is never given, so I’m gonna go ahead and assume that she is older than she looks.


	4. Where They Can't Tempt Us

**July 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

San Francisco is in complete and utter chaos.

Not even the Borg had managed a direct assault on Earth, but today headquarters is little more than a pile of rubble. In the aftermath of the attack, everyone in the Alpha and Beta quadrants has been made sharply aware of the Breen’s entrance into the war. The enemy may not have gained any actual ground, but the psychological effect of such a bold act may ultimately be the Alliance’s undoing.

‘You should be out there, Chakotay,’ Kathryn tells him, after giving him that knowing look and punctuating her disappointment with a slight shake of her tilted head.

“Maybe if you would leave me the hell alone, they’d let me return to duty,” he growls at her.

‘Oh?’ She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. ‘You think this is my fault?’

Chakotay rounds on his captain. “ _Of course it’s your fault, Kathryn!_ How could you possibly think that it isn’t? You gave the order! I told you it was too dangerous! I warned you, but you just—”

Suddenly, his accusation sticks in his throat and he chokes on it. Hot, angry tears are forcing their way into his eyes. “ _FUCK_!” he bellows, and fear grips his lungs. No doubt the whole building heard that. Any time now, Starfleet Medical will be sending a psychiatric dispatch to haul him away for insanity.

Slowly, he sinks to the floor at Kathryn’s feet. “What do you want from me?”

She crouches down in front of him and regards him with compassion. If she were real, alive, she would have touched him. But she isn’t, and she can’t, so she simply watches him instead. ‘Chakotay—’

“Please, Kathryn,” he pleads. “I love you. I love you, and I miss you so much, and I don’t want you to leave. But I can’t live like this. I can’t change what happened. I can’t—”

His tears have betrayed him. Fuck, how he hates to cry, but they won’t stop coming. He presses balled-up fists into his eyes to stop the flow, but it does nothing.

He needs to tell her to leave. He doesn’t know how he knows this; he simply knows it. Yet, he can’t bring himself to say the words. Instead, he hears from within his mind the echoes of their last night, when they loved one another with abandon as they balanced on the edge of eternity.

‘ _Come away with me_ ,’ he had said, but he lost her along the way.

Before she can reply, his computer console trills with an incoming transmission. Wiping at his eyes furiously with his fingertips, he stands and hurries over to his desk.

It’s Harry.

He looks at Kathryn, who has risen again to her full height and is leaning nonchalantly against the wall. Her arms are crossed in front of her. She purses her lips before she admonishes him with, ‘You should answer that.’

Chakotay nods and turns back to the console, accepting the com with audio only. He refuses to be seen like this, especially by Harry. Pouring every effort into forcing some lightness and steadiness into his voice, he greets, “Long time no talk, Harry.”

The com is silent for a beat before Harry asks, “Are you alright, Commander?”

“Chakotay, Harry; just call me Chakotay. I haven’t been on duty for months. And yes, I’m fine.”

“B—but, you live on-base, right?” Harry sounds frantic.

 _Oh. That’s what the call is about_. The whole city had been under a communications black-out for a full day after the attack. Harry must have been waiting to find out if he was now the lone survivor of Voyager’s crew.

Chakotay sighs. How could he have forgotten so completely to check up on Harry these past months? No calls, no letters—not even once. How incredibly selfish he has become.

“I’m just fine, Harry,” he reassures the young man. “I live near base, but not on it. I didn’t even have to replace my windows.”

On the other end of the channel, Harry sighs loudly with relief.

“Are you still in South Carolina?” Chakotay asks.

“Yes. I’ll be in the City next week, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s, um. One of my best friends from the academy… he… he was, uh… he wasn’t so lucky.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that, Harry.”

“Yeah, me too,” Harry retorts bitterly. “As if I haven’t lost enough.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. Look, I should go. I just wanted—”

“Let’s grab a beer,” Chakotay cuts in.

“I’m sorry?”

“You and me, while you’re in the City. We should catch up, have some drinks. I’d appreciate the company. Do you have a place to stay?”

“I, uh, haven’t really thought about it yet.”

“Well now you do,” Chakotay decides for him. “You’re staying with me.”

Harry stumbles over his words a bit before managing a strangled, “Thank you.” Then, wringing out a hurried good-bye, he cuts the link.

Chakotay doesn’t have to turn around to know exactly which smile is on Kathryn’s face right now. Her grin, imagined as it may be, feels like sunshine warming his back. He has finally done something right.

* * *

When they meet up the night after Lieutenant Daniel Byrd’s funeral, Chakotay is determined to make things right with Harry. Silently, he swears to Kathryn that he will. Harry blames himself for losing Voyager; he hates himself so much that it’s terrifying. Chakotay needs to show him, at the very least, that his former executive officer holds nothing against him.

The camaraderie is instant, and exponentially stronger than it had ever been on Voyager. They drink and talk and laugh until the bartender tells them it’s time to close. Then they stumble back to Chakotay’s apartment where they sit at his tiny kitchen table and pour themselves a nightcap.

“How long will you be in the City?” Chakotay asks.

Harry sighs. “I was only planning on coming in for the service, but when my shrink found out I was coming she decided that I should go ahead and take care of my psych eval.”

“Which, of course, isn’t until Monday.”

“Right. I could transport home for the weekend and come back on Monday—”

Chakotay shakes his head. “Stay here. No point in going back and forth. Unless you have other plans.”

“Actually—” Harry lets his response hang in the air for a moment as he drags the pad of his right middle finger around the rim of his glass. “Libby wants to meet up.”

“Libby?”

“My ex-girlfriend. From... before.”

 _Before Voyager_ , he means, although he doesn’t say it. He can’t bring himself to mention the life they shared and lost together. It was the blade that severed them from everything they had known, and it is now the partition that keeps them from rejoining the world carrying on around them.

“Is that good?” Chakotay asks.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not the same person I was, and neither is she. She, uh—” he worries his bottom lip between his teeth— “they were engaged, apparently. Libby and Danny.”

Chakotay sets down his glass with a thud. “Jesus.”

“Yeah. Whoever said, ‘You can never go home again,’ well, they were right after all. I got what I thought I wanted for so long, to come home, but home wasn’t waiting for me.” Harry’s voice snags and he swallows hard. His eyes glisten, but he blinks away the threatening tears. Shooting back the rest of his whiskey, he plunks the glass back on the table. “I think I’m gonna turn in.”

“Of course,” Chakotay says. He shows Harry to his own bedroom—he doesn’t have a spare—and mumbles a “goodnight” as he forces himself to turn away, despite the awkward feeling of leaving his room to someone else.

“Chakotay.” Harry reaches out with his hand, but pulls it back as soon as Chakotay looks at him. Awkwardly, he compensates for his gesture by shoving it through his unkempt black hair. “I, uh—” he clears his throat. “Thanks. For letting me stay here, I mean. It’s, uh, it’s good to have someone who, you know—”

Chakotay drops a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I know.”

“Yeah. Well, anyway. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

The next evening, Harry comes back to the apartment swaying at the precipice of a breakdown over his visit with Libby. Chakotay takes him to the new bar he has begun to frequent during the last few weeks—a bar where he knows won’t run into Tessa.

He wakes up the next morning in a pile of sheets on the floor of his living room, smelling of liquor and perfume. He doesn’t have a clue where Harry ended up; the other man had gone home with some woman a full hour before Chakotay left.

Harry does turn up eventually, and admits that was the first time he has gone out since Voyager’s last shore leave in the Delta Quadrant.

That night is a repeat of the one before. They laugh the next day as Harry recounts the scowl on his psychiatrist’s face upon realizing that her patient was hungover, and then Chakotay invites his former comrade to stay for as long as he wants.

“You can’t sleep on the couch forever, Chakotay,” Harry protests. “And most people I know prefer to fuck in a bed.”

“I’m quite fond of the wall myself,” Chakotay quips.

Harry laughs and shakes his head, but it settles the debate.


	5. I Want to Walk With You

**August 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

The longer Harry stays with him, the less interested Chakotay finds he is in picking up strangers at bars. Harry’s presence brings life into the void that has for so long echoed with nothing but the memory of Kathryn. Now, she only shows herself when Chakotay needs her—an occurrence that is becoming less common. Finally, _finally_ , he feels that he is not alone in the universe of the living, or walking constantly among the dead.

The two men breathe new life into each other in a way that would have made Kathryn so very proud.

There’s an undercurrent building between them that Chakotay can’t quite name. It cloaks itself in subtlety until the night Harry comes home from another meeting with Libby, half-sloshed and utterly dejected.

“She’s leaving,” he says.

Chakotay pours the man a drink from the bottle he has been nursing, little by little, throughout the evening. It’s thinned with synthohol, but he thinks Harry might not even notice.

“She’s been offered a chair in the Federation Interplanetary Symphony.” Harry takes a swig of the whiskey and grimaces. “What the fuck is this?”

Chakotay chuckles and shakes his head. “Half synth.”

Harry nods and makes a knowing ‘ _hmm_ ’ in the back of his throat. When he drinks again, he takes it in sips. “She’s going to stay with her parents in New York until it’s time for her to go.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

The other man shrugs. “Honestly, that’s not the part that hurts.”

“What is?”

“The fact that I can’t find it in myself to give a shit.”

Chakotay nods knowingly. Life after loss can feel so much like death itself. He says nothing, but he keeps the whiskey pouring until it’s gone.

As Harry cleans his teeth before bed—a habit so deeply ingrained that he keeps it no matter what—Chakotay pulls fresh clothes out of his dresser and fresh sheets from his closet. He turns to leave just as Harry steps in from the lavatory.

Chakotay claps the other man on the shoulder, lingering longer than he probably should. “Sleep well, Harry.” He watches Harry’s lips twitch upward, and half-smiles in return before letting his hand fall away.

“Wait,” Harry blurts, grasping Chakotay’s arm.

Chakotay pauses.

Harry’s face flushes, and his hand trails down to play lightly with Chakotay’s fingers. “You should… stay.”

That unnamed current between them suddenly stands stark naked in Chakotay’s awareness, and he cannot deny its pull. There’s an ache in his chest that tells him he doesn’t want to be alone tonight. He laces his fingers with Harry’s and steps in closer. “That’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

What happens next is a blur. All Chakotay knows is that a pile of linens falls to the floor, the distance between his face and Harry’s closes, and then it’s just—

Lips. Oh, god, these lips. They are the softest lips Chakotay has ever kissed. With his tongue, he reaches out and strokes one, drawing a moan from Harry’s throat—that perfect, kissable throat—and then even the thought of lips is yanked from his brain by the insistent need of his groin. His hands roam over Harry’s taut body, trembling with need, and his hips cant forward until they brush against the pinnacle of the other man’s tented slacks.

They both groan in unison at the contact, and press instantly into each other. Two sets of hands work feverishly at the fastenings of clothing until, finally, the last trappings fall away and they slide together, skin-to-skin.

Chakotay feels Harry’s heart pounding against that hard, flushed chest, and he presses his lips to the throbbing pulse-point in Harry’s neck. Gently, he nips, licks, and sucks at it, eliciting a groan.

Harry’s hands lightly caress Chakotay’s bare back as they glide downward. When they reach their destination, they curl into a firm grip on Chakotay’s ass and pull his hips flush against Harry’s. The sudden shift makes Chakotay gasp.

“I need to feel you inside me,” Harry murmurs in Chakotay’s ear, lasciviously grinding into him.

Chakotay growls and shoves Harry backwards onto the bed.

From there, the experience is thoughtless, timeless, and wholly sensual. Chakotay is absorbed in the sight of Harry’s muscular body, the scent of his musk, the touch of his skin, the taste of liquor on his breath, and the sounds of pleasure he can’t help but make as they move together—needfully, carefully, awkwardly—and they begin to make love.

Is it making love?

It feels like making love. It’s hungry, yes. But it is also comfortable and trusting, like love is. Nobody else knows Chakotay’s pain the way that Harry does; nobody can possibly understand the depth of their loss. All they have left is each other. Does that not count as love? It’s certainly different from all the casual fucking around he’s been doing.

It is nothing like the night he spent with Tessa—calling her Kathryn while he took her greedily against a cold, hard wall—or any of the other nameless one-night-stands from the past months.

Tonight, he and Harry dance together in pliant warmth. Harry tells Chakotay what he needs, and Chakotay revels in the give and take. When Chakotay comes, dragged over the edge of bliss by Harry’s clenching climax, he knows where he is and when he is and who he is sharing himself with.

Chakotay cannot be entirely sure what this means, though, as he lays next to Harry afterwards. It felt like lust, yet it also felt like love. Is there a difference, really? His mind is swimming with liquor and sinking into a sleepy, sated bliss, and he’s not sure that he cares to find a line between the two. This just might be the closest he will ever come to love again, so he wraps his arms around Harry, draws the man into his chest, and holds him close as they fall asleep.

It feels right in the moment.

Then, Kathryn comes to him in his dreams.

* * *

**February 2375**  
_USS Voyager_

When they fall together onto Kathryn’s bed, her change of pace is instant.

She goes from slow and relishing to desperate and famished in the blink of an eye, and it isn’t right. It is tempting—oh, so tempting—to let the heat of the moment consume them both, but he wants this to mean more. He won’t let lust steal away from him this one chance to show her how much he loves her.

“No,” he gasps, catching her face in his hand as it hovers over his naked hips, her mouth open in a wide ‘ _O_ ’ and ready to devour him. “I won’t last, Kathryn. I want… I want this to last.”

The wild look in her eyes tames, and she flashes him a mischievous smile. Then, kissing her way up his body, she hovers over him as she braces on hands and knees. She softly presses her lips to his. “You’re right. Maybe you should take over, Chakotay. I might be too easily tempted.”

He chuckles at the humor in her eyes, then groans as she punctuates her point by teasing his erection against her opening. “Kathryn,” he murmurs before pulling her face to his and kissing her thoroughly.

God, he has missed her like this. After so long trying to bury their feelings, Chakotay has begun to fear that he is losing Kathryn in the mires of the Delta Quadrant—that she is losing herself in duty, guilt, and obsession. Tonight she is the woman that she used to be before the Borg drove a wedge into their relationship.

She is happy and playful. She is human.

Chakotay flips her under him and presses his forehead against hers as she slides her hands luxuriously over his body. He trembles at the touch, and it draws out those dangerous words that he has held safely inside himself for years.

“I love you, Kathryn.”

He doesn’t expect her to say it back, but he needs her to know. He has to put it out there in the universe, like a prayer to keep her safe and close to his heart, always.

But then she does say it back, her eyes glistening and— _oh_ —that crooked smile gracing her perfect, blood-flushed lips. “I love you, too,” she whispers.

He has imagined this moment a hundred times. He has lived it in his dreams. Yet in reality, she has never said these words to him before.

Tonight, they dance effortlessly across her tongue.

When he takes those beautiful lips again with his own and submits his body to hers, everything in the universe feels so very right.

* * *

**August 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

For the second time in so many months, Chakotay wakes up with a deep, wrenching sense of regret.

His body is still spooned around Harry’s, and their arms are a tangled bundle. Chakotay forces himself to keep his breathing calm and steady, because he knows this may be the first and last time Harry has a chance to get a good night’s sleep—and, oh, how badly this broken young man needs to rest.

But within his own mind, Chakotay is furious with himself. It is one thing to bed a stranger he picked up at a bar; it’s another to bed an officer who served under him so closely, and who has come to put so much faith in him.

It was everything Kathryn stood against, and now he feels her presence everywhere.

Had he taken advantage of Harry? Chakotay tries to think back, but he cannot remember. Why can’t he remember? He had truly believed that he was getting better, that he might finally be climbing out of the pit his fatal mistake had dumped him in. Now, he wonders if he was simply digging out a new low.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What have I done, Kathryn?_

_What have I become?_


	6. On a Cloudy Day

**February 2376**  
_Deep Space Nine_

For a long time, Chakotay says nothing.

For a long time Ezri waits, patiently allowing their silence hang in the air.

Then, Chakotay buries his head in his hands and, for the first time since that night when Harry had com’ed him, he begins to cry in earnest. Except this time, he does not fight it.

Gently, Ezri places a box of tissues by his feet.

After the tears slow to a stop, she asks, “What happened when Harry woke up?”

“He knew something was wrong. I was waiting to see how he felt—what he thought about what had happened. I didn’t want to hurt him. He had been hurt so much already. I just wanted to do the right thing. But he knew.”

“What did he do?”

“He avoided it at first. Avoided… me. But, he couldn’t keep it in. I tried so hard not to hurt him, but I did anyway.”

* * *

**August 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

“You regret it, don’t you?”

The betrayal that laces Harry’s words feels like poison rushing through Chakotay’s veins. He winces, but doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how.

This is why. This is why it isn’t right. Harry is far too fragile—they both are. Too fragile, and too volatile for love. And if it isn’t love, then what is it? A cheap fuck? How could he ever treat Harry like that?

With a derisive snort, Harry throws his chair back from the dining room table and stands to leave. “Don’t worry, Chakotay. I’ll just be a few minutes while I get my things.”

“Harry.”

Harry freezes in mid-stride but doesn’t turn.

“It isn’t you. It’s me. I still—I can’t—I’m still—”

“In love with the captain?”

The question takes the air right out of Chakotay’s lungs.

Harry finally turns around, and his eyes are red with tears. “I know.”

“How…?”

Harry barks a humorless laugh, mocking Chakotay’s shock. “How do I know? How could I not know? Everyone knew, Chakotay. It was so obvious, ever since we got you back from that planet.”

Chakotay hangs his head. “Oh.”

“You know, I never once questioned myself the entire time I was trying to find a way to get you two back. Even when Captain Tuvok dressed me down on the bridge for arguing him. Even when he nearly threw me in the brig for daring to suggest a plan for convincing the Vidiians to cooperate. I never doubted that I was doing the right thing… not until the first time you both stepped on the bridge, and I realized that I had just ruined your one chance at happiness without the burden of command. I honestly hadn’t thought about that before. But yeah, I knew.”

Chakotay swallows hard. “Then you know why you and I can’t happen now.”

Harry slams his fist onto the tabletop, startling Chakotay into meeting his eyes. “Damn it, Chakotay! We’re not on Voyager anymore! Hell, we aren’t even on duty anymore! What the fuck does it matter?”

“It matters that I have been your commanding officer. That I could be so again in the future. That I took advantage of the fact that you were vulnerable and intoxicated—”

“Took advantage? Oh, for fuck’s sake! Is that really what you think?”

“It isn’t right, Harry. I’m sorry.”

“What if I told you that I want this? Or that I might actually have feelings for you?”

“Then I’d say you’re not thinking straight.”

“And who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what I do or do not feel?”

Chakotay has no answer.

Rounding the table, Harry drops to his knees next to Chakotay’s chair and grasps his hands with his own. “I don’t know what this is, Chakotay, but I know I can’t stand another day alone in my old room at my parents’ house. I don’t belong there anymore. That Harry Kim is gone. He’s dead, and his memory is slowly killing me. But this—us—it’s the first thing that’s made me feel like I’m still alive. And I know you feel it, too. Please—” Harry lifts his lips to Chakotay’s.

For a few blissful seconds, Chakotay lets himself kiss Harry back.

Then, he senses Kathryn’s eyes watching him from across the room, and he pulls himself from Harry’s grasp. “I can’t. I’m not—I’m not well. You deserve better. I can’t. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“And you are the authority on what I deserve?”

“Harry, please don’t make this harder than it is.”

The statement might as well have been a dagger, plunging into Harry’s chest. His mouth twists into a scornful sneer. Snatching his combadge from the table, he turns and strides towards the door.

“Harry, your things—”

“Keep them,” Harry bites as he pauses briefly in the open doorway. “I don’t need any reminders of you, _Commander_.” And with that, Harry storms out of the apartment.

Chakotay sinks his head into his hands, dragging labored breaths in between his palms. For a while, it is only this.

Kathryn watches him, and says nothing.

“I’m sorry, Kathryn,” he murmurs. “I failed you.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “Is there any way to fix this? Can I ever make things right?”

‘That’s still up to you, Chakotay,’ Kathryn responds.

* * *

**February 2376**  
_Deep Space Nine_

“You’re not a bad person, you know.”

Ezri isn’t the first counselor to tell him something like this. Over the past year since that slipstream flight flung the Delta Flyer onto Earth’s doorstep, Chakotay has heard his share of assurances that he is not to blame for his own mistakes.

_Survivor’s guilt_. It may as well be his etched into his skin.

A reflexive twinge of resistance tightens the knot inside his chest, and he clenches his fists.

“I’m not just saying that because it’s the ‘counselor’ thing to say,” she continues. “I’m saying it because I’ve been there, too.”

When he meets her eyes, he finds more than just sympathy; he finds raw, unguarded hurt.

She leans towards him. “We are not bad people, Chakotay. We are just people. We hurt others, and we hurt ourselves. But we can’t go back and change the past. All we can do is learn from it, and move forward.”


	7. Won't You Try to Come

**September 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

‘You should com him, Chakotay,’ Kathryn chides. She does this every day now.

For the first couple of weeks after Harry stormed out of his apartment, she actually let him be. Most likely, this is because he was either sleeping or staring blankly at the wall across from where he lay on the couch.

But now, she won’t leave him the fuck alone about it. And he wants to be livid with her, but the fact of the matter is that she’s right.

She is always right, even now that she’s gone.

Somehow, he has to fix what he has broken with Harry. He hasn’t got the slightest idea how, but for the first time in weeks he finally has the emotional energy to consider giving it a shot.

_A shot._

Yes, this will definitely require a drink. Chakotay finds his feet and shuffles into his kitchen to pour himself a few fingers of— _Hmm, whiskey? Scotch? Bourbon? Mm, yes. Definitely bourbon_. The sweet vanilla-maple-oak scent curls up to tickle his nose as it flows from the mouth of the bottle into the low ball glass. He swirls the burnt-umber liquid and breathes deeply from its rich bouquet. Touching the glass to his lips and tipping it back, he revels in the smooth burn of smoky caramel courage that rolls over his tongue. This liquor is one hundred percent real.

He carries the bottle with him to his desk.

When he calls up his list of contacts, he means to search for Harry so he can try to make things right with his former crew mate, but that isn’t what happens. Somehow, he skims right past Harry and finds himself instead looking at a different contact entirely.

Tessa Omond.

She had programmed this entry herself, and told him to com her if he ever got lonely, but shame of how he treated her on their one night together has convinced him to avoid her more times than he would like to admit.

 _God_ , he thinks, running his hands over his face. _I’ve been hurting everyone. Were you really the only thing holding me together, Kathryn?_

If he could ever use an understanding friend, it’s right now.

Tessa is all too happy to hear from him, and forgoes a night of bar-hopping alone in order to spend the evening with him instead.

“It might not be as exciting as last time,” he admits as a way to hint at his current mood.

“I don’t know about you,” she says, “but I’m getting pretty tired of constantly chasing excitement.”

* * *

When Chakotay opens the door to her thirty minutes later, he nearly drops his drink at the sight. Tessa’s hair has grown out several inches, and it’s still the same auburn color that it was when they first met.

But it’s her outfit that almost stops his heart.

It isn’t anything special—just a thin, fitted, light grey sweater and simple black slacks—yet his mind takes him immediately back to Kathryn.

Or is it how she smells? A perfectly balanced sweet vanilla and chai spice mixture that steals away whatever last sliver of rationality he had left.

Obviously recognizing the look in his eyes, Tessa steps through the threshold and into Chakotay’s space, allowing the doors to close behind her. Then, she slips the glass from his fingers, downs the remaining bourbon in one swallow, and sets it on a small accent table next to the door.

All it takes is the upward curl of her lips to sink him completely, and his mouth meets hers with bruising force.

She matches the intensity of his kiss, more than holding her own against his vigorous embrace in spite of how much smaller she is than he. His tongue curls around her upper lip and slides insistently against her teeth, but she does not permit him access. Her hands make quick work of his grey Starfleet t-shirt, deftly untucking it from his sweatpants—it’s a mindless habit to always tuck his shirt in no matter what he’s wearing—and peeling it over his head.

Out of necessity, this action breaks the kiss. When he dips his head to retake her mouth after she has tossed the shirt aside, she stops him with a single digit pressed against his lips. The action shocks him; he blinks as his bloodless brain attempts to make sense of what she has done.

After a beat, she smiles at him again and drops her hand from his lips to take his hand, which has fallen limply at his side. Her fingers curl around his.

“Come,” she whispers.

 _Come away with me_ , his mind echoes back.

And with a gentle touch, she leads him towards the bedroom.

* * *

 **February 2375**  
_USS Voyager_

“Tell me about Taos,” Kathryn murmurs as she traces lazy patterns onto his sweat-beaded skin.

“What about Taos?”

“I know you, Chakotay. You haven’t just thought about Taos for yourself. You picture us there together, don’t you?”

He smiles and kisses her hair. “You’re right.”

“So tell me about us. What do we do in Taos?”

“Other than sex?”

She huffs a laugh. “Yes, other than that.”

“Sometimes, we go into town and visit the shops. Of course, we stop in at your favorite coffeehouse at least three times during the day.”

Kathryn snorts and shakes her head against his chest.

“In the summer, we hike the range. You insist on carrying all of your own gear, even though I offer to take it for you—”

She lifts her head and shifts so that she can shoot him a witheringly indignant look. “What are you insinuating? I’ll carry all of my own gear, and I’ll still beat you to the summit!”

He chuckles, flashing her his dimples because he knows how quickly that disarms her. “—and you still beat me to the summit.”

Kathryn raises a suspicious eyebrow, likely trying to decide if he’s being genuine or if he is merely patronizing her. Finally she orders, “Go on.”

Rolling onto his side so he can face her, he slides a leg in between hers and hooks it behind her knee. At the same time, he slips both arms around her, drawing her closer. “But my favorite days,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers, “are the ones where we stay inside because it’s cold and rainy and the only place we can stand to be is tangled up in each other underneath the warm blankets.”

She sighs contentedly and he knows he’s been forgiven. Her fingers reach up to trace the tattoo over his left brow. “Is that really what you think about, Chakotay? That’s what you want?”

“I realize it isn’t exactly the sort of excitement you like to seek out, but yes. It’s what I want.”

For a brief moment, Chakotay worries that this might be it—the moment when she remembers why it can’t work between them, that they are so very different, and she’ll pull away just like she did the first few weeks on New Earth. But she nuzzles her head beneath his chin and whispers, “tell me more.”

“We’ll wake up to the sound of rain falling on the tin roof—”

“ _A tin roof?_ ”

“Mhmm.”

“Who on Earth still uses tin roofing?”

“We do. We’ll spend the whole morning listening to it, never once leaving our bed, and I’ll show you again—“ He shifts so he can kiss her once— “and again—“ twice— “how much you mean to me. We won’t get up until we absolutely have to eat.”

“Or pee.”

Chakotay chuckles lightly. “Or pee. And when the rain stops, and we finally get dressed, I’ll show you everything on the land that’s ours alone to explore.”

“Like what?”

“Rolling foothills. Wildflowers in fields where the yellow grass grows knee-high. We won’t even see half of it by the time the sun starts to set, and you’ll be wrapped in both your sweater and mine, but I won’t care. We’ll watch the sunlight push through the clouds to paint the mountains red.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“You’ve never seen anything like it, Kathryn.”

“Alright,” she says, her smoky timbre both diplomatic and suggestive. She crowns his chest with kisses as she rolls him over and slides on top of his body. Her mussed hair slips disobediently from behind one ear. “You have yourself a deal.”

* * *

 **September 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

This time, Tessa takes control of their union, and it’s more tender than he knows how to handle. She rides him slowly, building his arousal in gradients until he bursts with the most intense climax he’s had since—

Well, that doesn’t matter now. What matters is that she’s here, that she understands his need for catharsis, and that she wants to help him through it. She doesn’t judge him in the slightest when he comes while clinging to her tightly and crying out Kathryn’s name, two fat tears rolling down from the corners of his eyes like the raindrops he used to imagine rolling down the window panes of a tiny cabin in Taos.

Before he even returns to his senses, she has wiped them both away.

“Tessa,” he finally whispers.

Her fingers dance along the lines of his tattoo. “Hey there, stranger. Feel better now?”

Chakotay nods, then regards her with concern. “What about you?”

She bends down to kiss his lips before responding, “I’m not the one who needed to grieve tonight.”

For a moment, he is tempted to accept this and give into the chemical pull on his brain towards sleep. But in another part of his mind, he formulates a promise—to Kathryn, to Harry, to Tessa, and to himself. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I won’t do that anymore. I won’t keep taking from good people without giving anything back.”

“It’s okay, Chakotay. We all need to be a little selfish sometimes.”

“No. Not anymore. Let me thank you for how much you’ve helped me.”

“You really don’t have to—"

Hooking his leg around hers, Chakotay swiftly rolls Tessa beneath himself, making her gasp with surprise. He drops his face to hers and closes his eyes. “I want to, Tessa,” he whispers against her lips just before he takes them with his own. He will not project Kathryn onto this wonderful woman anymore.

And for a blissfully immeasurable stretch of time, he loves her for who she is, not who he wishes she could be. He loves her slowly and intentionally, like she did for him, bringing her to climax with careful hands and a skilled mouth—once, twice—until he is ready to love her with the rest of his body as well. By the time they are both completely spent, he feels more than just the temporary relief of sexual release.

He feels known, understood, and accepted.


	8. We Will Kiss on a Mountaintop

**September 2375**  
_San Francisco, CA_

“I’ve started a new project since the last time we met,” Tessa says, watching him closely.

Chakotay can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t know how he will react to this project, whatever it is, although she obviously wants him to know about it. “For work?”

“Not officially. But when the war is over, presuming it goes our way, Starfleet will almost certainly want to look into this. And I’d like to be involved when they do.”

“Must be important,” he muses. “I’m sure they’ll want their best astrophysicist on the job.”

“It is important. At least, I think it is. And I think you would agree.”

Chakotay sighs, catching onto Tessa’s hints. “You’re looking into the slipstream drive, aren’t you?”

She fidgets with her fingers. “Well, it does involve my field. And what can I say? You were the most interesting one night stand I’d had in a long time.”

The tension in his shoulders relaxes, and he half-smiles. No one else could have broached the topic so easily; not one of the counselors he’s seen has been remotely successful in this. But with Tessa, he knows he is not alone. And with real, living company, it doesn’t seem quite so unbearable. For the first time, he can breathe through the pain without numbing it somehow.

So, instead of running, he finally faces up to it. “Well, Harry’s the real expert. If… if we... could have had more time…”

Tessa reaches across the table to grasp his hand. “I have nothing but time now. I know it doesn’t help them, but if he wants another pair of eyes—”

“I can’t imagine that Harry will ever want to look at phase corrections again,” he gently reminds her.

“Maybe. But if I was in his place, I wouldn’t be able to let it go until I figured out what went wrong and came up with the right calculations.”

Chakotay hangs his head. He honestly has no idea how Harry is handling this particular issue. They hadn’t discussed phase corrections before they fell into bed together.

Since their fight the next morning, they haven’t discussed anything at all.

Lifting his head and looking again into Tessa’s dark eyes, Chakotay looks for any sign that she has noticed something more between him and Harry than their shared tragedy. Her gaze holds nothing but compassion and support, and he lets out a breath. “You’re probably right,” he admits. “And even if he doesn’t want help with the calculations, I know that he could use a friend.”

Tessa nods. “It’s good having someone to talk to who understands.”

Chakotay squeezes her hand. “Yes, it is.”

* * *

 **February 2376**  
_Deep Space Nine_

“Tess helped me heal,” Chakotay says to the counselor, feeling better already by virtue of simply telling someone the whole story. He smiles to himself as he recalls the three months he and Tessa spent together on Earth after their reunion. “She has a way of getting under your skin, making you want to lay down arms when everyone else has you on the defensive.”

“Is that how she got through to Harry?”

He nods. “I told her what happened with him, and she decided that we should pay him a visit. As in, show up at his door and take him out for a drink. I honestly didn’t think it would work, but Tess did it. She even convinced him to show her the work he had been doing on phase variances.”

“So she was right? He was still working on them?”

“It was all he thought about—well, that and trying to calculate where Voyager fell out of the slipstream. Everyone else tried talking him out of it, and he pushed them away. But Tess understood. She didn’t shame him or tell him it was pointless or give him any of that ‘embrace life’ bullshit that the counselors were always pushing on us. She encouraged him to keep looking for as long as he needed to. And it worked, because those calculations were all that kept him going.”

“And now they can both put some of that work to good use for Starfleet in trying to find them.”

“Yes, they can,” Chakotay agrees, thinking back to a bittersweet memory that he still doesn’t have room within himself to fully process yet—the day Harry and Tess said goodbye to him and boarded a shuttle for Starfleet’s mission to track down and recover Voyager.

“And we,” Ezri adds gently, “here on the station, get the privilege of considering you our newest friend.”

He raises his eyes to hers, and smiles.  
  
****

* * *

**February 2375**  
_USS Voyager_

There’s a fear in Kathryn’s eyes that even she can’t completely hide anymore.

“We don’t have to do this,” Chakotay reminds her gently as he steps in front of her, bringing a halt to her back-and-forth pace across the ready room.

Kathryn looks at him firmly. “I’ve made my decision, Chakotay.”

His mouth twitches upward at the corners. “I know.”

Her hands come up to rest above his heart, and he covers them with his. “Computer,” she asks, “what is the current time?”

“The time is 0955 hours.”

“Five minutes,” Chakotay says. His thumbs trace the bones in her hands.

Kathryn stands still for a moment, her gaze sweeping over his face as if to commit it to memory. Then, with a sigh, she slips her hands from his grip and reaches for the computer console on top of her desk.

Her eyes never leave his while she records the day’s first log entry.

“Captain's log, stardate 52143.6. With any luck, my next log entry will be made in the Alpha Quadrant. But should our luck run out, I'd like to say for the record that the crew of Voyager acted with distinction and valor.”

As if on cue, Harry chooses the very next moment to contact her with a report that the Delta Flyer is ready for launch.

“Acknowledged, Ensign. The commander will be on his way shortly.”

Closing the com channel, her hands quickly find his and bring them to her lips. With an index finger, he reaches out to stroke her cheek, and she turns her face into it. One finger becomes a hand, then two, and soon they are wrapping around to draw each other into a desperate, final kiss that lingers longer than it should.

Although, at this point, neither one much cares about hard adherence to the schedule.

When they finally break apart, Chakotay links his hands behind his back to keep from pulling her close again. Otherwise, he might never let her go, but he knows that he must. Kathryn Janeway must always be free.

He gives her a reassuring nod.

“I’ll see you in the Alpha Quadrant,” she tells him.

“Safe flight, Captain.”

“Same to you, Commander.”

They don’t say the three words that were exchanged the night before, murmured against sweat-slicked skin. But they are there, in between the lines of what they actually say to one another. This isn’t the place for such confessions to be spoken aloud. Today, they are officers.

Tomorrow, they will be something else.


	9. I'll Never Stop Loving You

**April 2376**  
_Deep Space Nine_

Ezri shifts nervously in her seat when Chakotay tells her that he has been thinking about accepting Kira’s longstanding offer to make him her first officer.

“I know your medical exams came back clean,” the counselor says, “and I know that the colonel really, _really_ , wants me to clear you for duty here on the station, but I’m still a little concerned about something.”

“Which is?”

“The conversations have with Kathryn Janeway—are you still having the hallucinations?”

Chakotay shakes his head. “No. Sometimes, I picture her in my mind, or imagine that I’m talking to her because I miss the sound of her voice. But it’s not like it was before. I don’t actually see or hear anything. Although, even when I was seeing her, I always knew she wasn’t real. I think she was a comfort somehow.”

“Hmm,” Ezri says, not looking entirely convinced. “Well, I can’t diagnose you with anything, and neither can Julian. You’ve been making excellent progress in our counseling sessions. You are managing your grief, and taking an interest in life again.”

“So, what do you want to do? Because, to be honest, I’m starting to get a little stir-crazy.”

“I know. I do think it would be good for you to get back to work. Plus, the colonel never warms up to people as quickly as she warmed up to you. If that’s not a good omen, then I don’t know what is.” Ezri sighs and studies his face. “You told me in our first session that you’re a spiritual man. Do you still think of yourself that way?”

“I do.”

“Do you believe that Kathryn Janeway—the real Kathryn Janeway—is still alive in a spiritual sense?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Do you believe that she can see you now? Or that she is somehow present in your life?”

Chakotay smiles. “Always.”

“Is that who you talk to when you converse with Kathryn in your mind?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, but I would like to think so.”

“Chakotay,” Ezri says, settling both feet on the floor of her office and leaning towards him in her chair, “I think that, maybe, there is only one question left that matters here. Do you even _want_ to try and address this issue—to let go of Kathryn for good?”

Chakotay thinks about this for a long while. Eventually, he looks at the counselor and admits, “I’m honestly not sure that I do. Kathryn became so much a part of me that to try sending her away would feel like rejecting a piece of myself.”

Ezri nods, but seems to sense that he isn’t done. She waits patiently for him to say more.

It takes a moment for Chakotay to get the words into a sequence. He feels this more than thinks it, but something tells him that if he verbalizes it, then it might finally make sense.

He licks his lips. “I know it’s not very likely but, on some level, I still want to hope that she could be out there somewhere, watching those distant stars and making a plan that will force the universe to bend to her will. She swore that she would bring our crew home, no matter what, and Kathryn never backs down on her word.”

At this, Ezri gives him a genuine smile. “Then maybe it’s not something we need to worry about.”

* * *

**December 2386**  
_Antaran transport vessel, twelve parsecs from the Takara Sector_

It has taken just over a decade of searching—less than half of which was aided by Starfleet—but their efforts have finally paid off. Harry and Tess have found what they were looking for.

They contact Chakotay as soon as they confirm their findings, and he immediately puts in for shore leave so he can make his way out to the far reaches of known space to meet them. It is a long and exhausting trip, but it brings him within spitting distance of the final resting place of his beloved captain and their valiant crew.

Buried in a glacier on a frozen L-Class planet in the Takara System, is the USS Voyager.

Chakotay’s reunion with Harry and Tessa isn’t exactly what most people would consider to be a happy one. Looking at long-range sensor data and blurry holo-images of Voyager’s bow beneath a sheet of ice brings that dormant pain right back to the surface. Still, Chakotay knows that this finding is very good news indeed.

It means there is a ship to board, where they can download all of the sensor data they need to fine tune Harry and Tessa’s calculations. It means that Seven of Nine’s body has likely been preserved well enough for them to salvage her cranial implant. It means that the Doctor’s program may also be salvageable, and then he can find out when Seven of Nine needs to receive their transmission.

Perhaps it will be a few more years before they can set a plan into motion, but they now have the missing piece. With Voyager located and intact, Harry’s once-insane idea actually has a chance at working. If they can send a message to Seven in the past, giving her the right set of phase corrections, they can prevent Voyager from ever falling out of the slipstream.

Which means that a little cabin in Taos, New Mexico can finally exist somewhere other than Chakotay’s imagination.

Chakotay smiles to himself as a thought occurs to him, causing Harry to make a face. “You took a page out of Kathryn’s book,” he explains.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

“You made a plan that will force the universe to bend to your will, in order to bring our crew home.”

For the first time he can remember, Chakotay sees Harry smile.

It has been eleven years since he sat in a bar catching up with his former crew mate, silently promising Kathryn that he would honor her memory by finding a way to make things right. Eleven years ago, he failed to keep that promise. Since then, he has done whatever he can do from within Starfleet while Harry and Tess have worked to keep the search for Voyager alive.

Seeing Harry smile at him now, Chakotay finally feels that he has found a way to repair the pain he caused to Harry. At last, he can make it right. More than that, he can erase the consequences of his complicit participation in the loss of Voyager.

He can finally bring their crew home.

* * *

**Far Beyond The Distant Stars**  
_Taos, New Mexico_

_Is that… rain?_

Chakotay opens his eyes and blinks as his awareness slowly comes into focus. _It is rain_ , he realizes. Fat drops fall from the sky and slap loudly against the tin roof of the small, cozy cabin. He glances over at the nearest window to watch water drizzle in little streams down the panes of glass.

Sensing his presence, Kathryn stirs awake in his arms and turns over to face him. She smiles, her eyes still bleary and sparkling with sleep. “You came,” she whispers.

Chakotay smiles back at her and rests a hand on her cheek. “I will always come back to you, Kathryn. I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.” 


End file.
